


Defects of Doubt, Taints of Blood

by necrora



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Cutting pretty close to PWP, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 20:41:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/necrora/pseuds/necrora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The third time Sam comes back from the battlefield, Dean hands him a puppy. </p>
<p>The sixth time Sam comes back from the battlefield, Dean doesn’t even notice until hours later, where he finds Sam sitting outside the warehouse, clutching the mutt to his chest and screaming into the long fur, his head buried and his shoulders shaking uncontrollably.</p>
<p>The seventh time Sam comes back from the battlefield, Dean lets his little brother fuck him, pin him against the concrete wall of the falling-apart warehouse, ass jutting out and feet hovering off the ground, the only sound echoing in the emptiness of the building the screeching of Dean’s fingernails scratching off the wall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Defects of Doubt, Taints of Blood

The third time Sam comes back from the battlefield, Dean hands him a puppy. 

Sam doesn’t even blink as Dean pushes the animal into his chest, and his expression is still marble-cold, the enemy’s blood dripping off his hair the only thing warm about him, but his arms still come up to clumsily clutch at the mutt and Dean’s heart gives a heave. He’d been afraid that he was too late. 

The mutt—Dean would have liked to get a golden, like that fucking Flagstaff pet he remembers seeing in Sam’s heaven, but this is the apocalypse and domestic canines are not exactly in abundance around here—seems to want nothing more than to scamper away from the scary, bloody man at first. But after a few seconds it twists around and gives a curious sniff at Sam’s face, and licks the tip of Sam’s nose repeatedly until the marble finally cracks. 

“Dean, what the fuck?” Sam’s hand comes up to absently scratch behind its ears, his eyes finally softening enough to fall from Dean’s face to stare at the puppy. 

“You’ve always wanted a puppy,” Dean says. “Figured you should get one before the end of the world.”

Sam gives him an incredulous look, or at least tries. The puppy blocks the way by merrily licking along past all the sticky intestines plastered to Sam’s face, trying to get at that sweet human flesh that must still lie under all the vestiges of destruction Sam has wrought today. Dean congratulates himself on choosing a great mutt, and thus for being such an awesome big brother. It doesn’t really matter that there was only one choice, and it took hours of careful coaxing before he could get the puppy to come closer.

“I need a shower,” Sam finally says, reluctantly making to put the puppy down.

“Take the mutt with you and wash him at the same time,” Dean orders. “He smells like shit.” He doesn’t add that, despite all the apocalyptic garbage the dog must have been rolling in before Dean snatched it up, Sam smells even worse. There is, after all, no way to avoid it when he’s been riding nice and close to the enemies since dawn when the first attack of the day began.

Sam murmurs something only a long-suffering little brother could conjure up as he carries the puppy with him, and Dean lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. 

Sam names the puppy Chevy. Dean thinks of his baby with only a passing ache, and refers to the mutt as the mutt.

\---

The sixth time Sam comes back from the battlefield, Dean doesn’t even notice until hours later, where he finds Sam sitting outside the warehouse, clutching the mutt to his chest and screaming into the long fur, his head buried and his shoulders shaking uncontrollably. Chevy looks heavier, darker, and for a long moment Dean thinks Sam has killed the dog with his bitchy fit, but then realizes Sam has merely soaked the entire dog through with his tears.

Dean thinks, _a dog can’t pay the price of saving the world_ , but then immediately adds, _neither can my little brother._

\---

The seventh time Sam comes back from the battlefield, Dean lets his little brother fuck him, pin him against the concrete wall of the falling-apart warehouse, ass jutting out and feet hovering off the ground, the only sound echoing in the emptiness of the building the screeching of Dean’s fingernails scratching off the wall. Sam’s lips are desperately nipping at his ears, his breaths coming inhumanly fast as he thrusts into Dean again and again, powerful shoves that keep Dean afloat even without the huge hands clutching at his sides as fiercely as they had clung to the dog.

Dean lets out a startled gasp, the first sound he’s made since he let Sam throw him against the gray wall, as the sharp pain spreads from his ribs. He has just enough time to think _fucker broke my bones_ before he comes, his dick bleeding raw against the rough surface even as pleasure rises and ebbs. His fingertips are already bloody from the torn nails, though, and his insides are already fire and his mind a dull fog and he simply turns his head to accept his little brother’s biting kiss. 

Afterwards Sam heals him, even though Dean gives a short grunt at him that’s meant to be translated as _don’t waste your humanity on this shit_ and that he’s sure his little brother has understood, just as he’s sure Sam is ignoring him as he pushes light into Dean’s ribs. Sam doesn’t fix anything else, though ( _like his incredibly sore, bleeding ass_ ), and simply lies curled up next to him. Dean thinks Sam might have cried, might not have, but can’t tell through the darkened swirls his eyes have become, can’t tell if the moisture on his back where Sam presses his face is from sweat or from tears.

\---

It happens again the eighth, the ninth, the tenth time. It happens again and again.

\---

The nineteenth time that Sam comes back from the battlefield, Dean realizes that Chevy is gone, has been gone for a while. He also realizes that they have somehow gone from desperate, guilt-ridden fucks against the concrete walls to gentle kisses and slow movements, in and out, silken and sensual, under the covers of a luxurious bed.

He means to look around, wondering when that had happened, but then Sam is already there, darkening Dean’s vision as he moves into him. Dean feels something sharp scrape against his forehead as Sam pushes back his too-long hair, and he knows Sam means to be gentle, as gentle as he can, and he knows that’s still his own blood that trickles down from the cut. Sam makes a soft noise, not unlike the whine Chevy used to make, and laps up the blood before moving deeply into Dean, a familiar presence thrusting further and further inside. 

Dean opens his eyes to glance up, breathless, at his little brother. He sees the world swirling in Sam’s eyes, and opens his mouth as he opens his legs, forever accepting the forked tongue and the fangs that skid across his boneless lips.


End file.
